Huntington Library, California Treasure House Leningrad. Another bronze graces the Louvre in Paris. Several other statues by Houdon are in a special collection dedicated to the memory of Mr. Huntington's wife, Arabella. One is the remarkably lifelike marble bust of Houdon's young daughter. I had first seen a photograph of this statue, and it had haunted me. A retouching artist, I detected, had been at work on the negative of the child's face. I wondered why. I also suspected that the eyes had been retouched, for they seemed to sparkle with life. Angelic Statue with a Dirty Face Mr. Parish and I went to the gallery to examine the original. The white marble of the statue has brown smudges in the cheeks, just as if this angelic little girl might have had a dirty face. The overzealous retoucher evidently could not abide this defect. It may never be known whether Houdon unhappily ran into these smudges in the stone when it was too late to discontinue the work, or whether he chose a piece of blemished marble as a whimsical bit of realism. The eyes of the photograph, however, had not been tampered with, the statue itself proved. Unlike most marble figures, Hou don's faces do not have blank, convex eyeballs. Instead, the iris and pupil are indented so that shadows make the eye seem natural. To complete his craftsmanship, Houdon also left protruding from the darkness of the iris a pinpoint of white marble that creates the uncanny effect of a highlight (page 260). I was curious about the care, cleaning, and preservation of these fabulously valuable art objects. Mr. Parish helped me understand this problem when I several times proposed moving a painting or a statue to take a photograph. His face would cloud with in decision as he considered the restrictions laid down by insurance companies for handling the art treasures. "Sometime soon," he said, "we're going to remove 'The Blue Boy' and the others in the New Gallery. We need to treat the backs of some of the canvases to make them impervi- ous to moisture. And when we take them down, I'll want six men handling each pic ture!" I found that almost every piece of furni ture, of porcelain, of bronze was bolted down or glued inside an earthquake-proof case. Fine wire made the glass of showcases shatter proof. When paintings came off the walls for repair or cleaning by professional restorers, Mr. Parish hovered over them with anxious concern. To avoid the hazards of moving them even to the estate's workshop, some art objects are cleaned and restored in the galleries. I was able then to photograph this operation in the French room of the Arabella Hun tington memorial collection, and to include as background one of five tapestries after designs by Francois Boucher (page 255). Altogether, there are more than 500 pieces in the art gallery and the memorial collec tion. In addition there are nearly 200,000 rare books in the library, and more than a million rare manuscripts, letters, and maps in a separate section of the stacks. The library also contains more than 150,000 reference works, which scholars use to assist their studies among the rare books. Books Keep Cool Behind Bars Rare books are issued to readers through a grill in heavy steel doors for which only a few keys exist. After scrutiny of my credentials, the attendant allowed me to enter these doors, and I signed the same declaration to abide by the rules that is signed by the researchers who come here to work. Even Dr. John E. Pomfret, Director of the institution, is subject to the rules for care and preservation of the rare books and documents. One day he was reprimanded by an alert librarian in the rare book reading room when he absent-mindedly pulled from his pocket a ball-point pen. Readers may use only pencils or, preferably, noiseless typewriters as they take notes from the volumes. Curator Schad admitted me from the sti fling heat of a summer day into the delicious coolness of the rare book vault. Silks, Wig, and Pinch of Snuff Mark a Georgian Dandy In the 1700's snuff taking was as common as smoking is today, and the snuffbox was in dispensable to the gentleman. Costly snuffboxes, enameled and jeweled, became a sign of rank; they were a king's favorite gifts. Europe's finest goldsmiths and miniaturists lavished their talents on the containers. Some of the boxes here were used for ladies' sweetmeats. Graydon Spalding of Huntington's staff mimics the drawing-room manners of the era. © National Geographic Society 263